


honey, you're finally alone

by freindo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Viktor is sweet and clueless, possible slight trigger, set in Episode 4, yuuri has a bad brain day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 17:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freindo/pseuds/freindo
Summary: Viktor yawns again, unceremoniously loud, and half-heartedly raises a hand to cover his mouth. His eyes are screwed shut when he asks, “Are you tired?”Yuuri nods. Viktor opens his eyes and gives him a questioning look.“Yes,” Yuuri forces himself to rasp out.





	honey, you're finally alone

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a short ventpiece i wrote a looooong time ago. i found it while going through some folders and i kinda liked it so i thought i would post it. 
> 
> little warning: i don't think anything explicitly triggering happens in this oneshot, but it kind of gets close. jsyk if you wanna avoid it. :)

He wakes up and he feels fine. A little dizzy from sleep and with a bad taste in his mouth, but fine. He sits up in bed, fumbles with his phone to turn the alarm off and stares blankly at the empty space on the wall where a Viktor Nikiforov poster should be.

Yuuri is fine. 

When he shuffles out of his room and into the bathroom he feels that weight, that familiar feeling, but he brushes his teeth and combs his hair away from his face and tries to will away the dark circles etched underneath his eyes.

He eats his breakfast and Viktor is there, as bright as ever, and Yuuri feels what little energy he had managed to muster in the bathroom being sapped away. He wants to close his eyes and fall asleep. He wants to lay down and stop moving, just become a lump on the floor that melts through the boards and disappears forever.

He’s so tired, he thinks, but Yuuri can push on a little further. He always can.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Viktor tells him, stacking his bowls up into a neat pile to hand to Hiroko, who is still in the kitchen. Yuuri gets dressed too, and they jog together to the rink with their kit bags slung over their shoulders.

His hands shake a little as he pulls at the laces of his skates. Stupid, he’s been doing this for years now. More than a decade. He’s skated on this rink his entire childhood and he’s happy to be back. His hero is here to teach him, and he’s wonderful. He should be happy. 

The knot in his chest curls up tighter. It’s heavy, and it  _ hurts. _

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri!” 

Viktor sings from the bench across him, and Yuuri holds his breath.

He’d called his name for no reason apparently, because Viktor has moved onto whistling a pleasant tune that he doesn’t recognise. He’s already got his skates on and the guards make a familiar  _ clack _ on the linoleum floors of the changing rooms.

It’s funny watching him slip and slide a little on the tiles. Yuuri was surprised that Viktor wasn’t the benevolent god that he had grown up thinking he was, but he’s grown used to it now. He trips over himself and snorts at jokes just like anyone else Yuuri knows. The thought makes him smile, and he grabs onto that and keeps it there in the front of his mind. 

“Let’s get started!” Viktor says brightly and swings the door open wide, water bottle and phone in hand with keen blue eyes peeking behind him to make sure that he’s being followed.

“Coming,” Yuuri murmurs, giving his laces an extra tug. He’ll work hard today.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Yuuri wakes up. 

Well, in theory he does. His eyes are open and his phone is blaring in his ear, telling him to get up  _ right now  _ or Viktor will be disappointed. Somehow the thought is not as alarming as it usually is. 

He shuts his eyes. The alarm hurts his ears. 

“Ugh,” Yuuri grunts.

He groggily turns it off and sits up. And flops back down on the bed. It’s just too much to go out there and face everyone. He’s in no state to talk to them. Yuuri can feel the weight again, sticking him to the bed like glue, pressing him down against the mattress because he’s too afraid to leave his room and look his family in the face like he isn’t the failure that he actually is.

Yuuri whimpers and yanks the covers over his head as a wave of revulsion crawls through his stomach. He curls up, making himself as small as possible and digs his fingernails into the flesh of his forearm. It’s doesn’t feel good, but it clears his mind from the barrage of thoughts running through it. About how he’s not good enough, and everyone knew it from the start and how could he be so  _ stupid! _

He needs to trim his nails. After a few seconds the pain is too much, so he rubs the indentations in his skin and sighs. 

Yuuri wonders why he is such a mess.

Yesterday Viktor had been toying between giving Yuuri a rest day or pushing him a little further with some cross-training. It’ll be fine. He’ll just hide here under the covers and they’ll know to leave him alone. He doesn’t care anyway. It’s all useless. Yesterday’s practice was awful and he has no idea how to act around Viktor and Yuuri is just a worthless, clumsy, good-for-nothing…

His thoughts run away from him, dreaming up horrific fantasies of the things he really deserves, of the fact that he wishes he could just give up because no matter how hard he tries he never, ever, amounts to anything.

He’s already given up. Yuuri’s hiding under these covers like he’s seven years old again and throwing a tantrum over waking up for school. Except his mother isn’t going to come and wrestle him into his uniform. He’s old enough now to take care of himself, but Yuuri’s so much of a failure that he really doesn’t know how to do that either.

Yuuri stays there under the covers, his breath making the air underneath his duvet warm and humid. He wants to stick his head out and gulp down the fresh air outside but he feels a lot safer here in this ridiculous, fluffy cocoon he’s fashioned for himself.

He listens to the inn begin to wake up. Someone’s moving around upstairs, and from the gurgling of the pipes he can tell another person is using the bathroom down the hall. Yuuri knows this place and has grown up with these sounds at the beginning of every morning since he can remember. 

He takes a deep breath of stale-duvet-air and tries to relax. Maybe if he just takes half of today off, he can just go back to normal and work with Viktor as if nothing happened. He’ll just say he’s sick.

There are footsteps now, a little uneven and tottering down the hallway outside his bedroom. Yuuri feels himself freeze and his heart beats a little quicker as it gets closer and closer. He hopes they’re not coming to see why Yuuri isn’t at breakfast. Why Yuuri is such a pathetic piece of work hiding in his bed when he knows perfectly well he should be out there trying to repay everyone for the burden he’s placed on them.

A yawn. 

It’s not Yuuri’s. It’s loud, vibrating right through the thin paper of his bedroom door and unmistakably belonging to Viktor. 

Yuuri’s going to die. He’s going to die right here. There’s nowhere for him to run, he’s trapped here, he can’t see him like this.

A knock at his door. 

Yuuri’s heart pounds He grabs one corner of the duvet in his fist and clenches it in his fist, hard. He could just pretend to be asleep. Just lay there under the duvet until he goes away. But that won’t work, he’ll suffocate here if he stays for too long, so the only option is to--

Viktor knocks again.

A moment’s more of hesitation and Yuuri peels back his duvet, cringing at the rush of fresh air that hits him full in the face. 

“Y--es?”

His voice cracks, but he’s glad that it does because it makes him sound like he’s sick. Like he has an excuse for staying in bed.

“Can I come in?” Viktor’s question is muffled. He’s learnt to mind boundaries a whole lot more since he’d arrived a few weeks ago and Yuuri almost wants to cry from how respectful he is being when Yuuri doesn’t deserve one bit of it.

Yuuri makes a sound in affirmative. Before he can prepare himself, the door slides open and Viktor is in his doorway, dressed in a robe and slippers and blinking sleep out of his eyes.

Viktor’s pale blue eyes flick around the room. It makes Yuuri realise just how ridiculous he must look, tucked under the covers when Viktor actually bothered to get out of bed to come and see him.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“You’re still in bed?” he asks, his lip quirking upwards like Yuuri has done something particularly amusing. He leans comfortably against the door frame, still managing to look like a model even in his pyjamas. 

Yuuri, shamefaced, shuffles up so his back is to the wall. He keeps his hands underneath the covers because he doesn’t know what to do with them. He doesn’t know what to say either, and when he ventures to meet Viktor’s eyes all rational thought leaves his brain.

What does he say? Should he lie? What is the truth, even? That he’s lazy, that he’s so useless he can’t even get out of his bed?

Viktor yawns again, unceremoniously loud, and half-heartedly raises a hand to cover his mouth. His eyes are screwed shut when he asks, “Are you tired?”

Yuuri nods. Viktor opens his eyes and gives him a questioning look.

“Yes,” Yuuri forces himself to rasp out. 

Viktor smiles lightly. “So am I,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Shall we go easy today, then?” At Yuuri’s small nod, his smile falls a little, obviously catching something in his face that Yuuri wasn’t able to hide. “Are you okay?"

“Ah… Um…. I’m sick.”

“You are?” Viktor frowns. He takes a small step forward to look at him more closely, but Yuuri burrows deeper beneath the sheets so he can’t stare at his oily unwashed face.

“S-Sorry, could you go get my… mom? My mom? 

Viktor stops. “Yes,” he says. He nods vigorously. “Yes, of course. And I’ll get you some water.”

Viktor disappears quickly, not before reassuring him that it won’t affect their progress too much and that he can have a day off today, they’ll just have to adjust the schedule for the rest of the week.

Thank God. 

He’s left alone, and without a living legend in his room he almost feels like he can relax, if he forgets the weight in his chest. He shuts his eyes.

Yuuri doesn’t deserve Viktor. He’s so warm and kind, always listening to Yuuri, even when Yuuri doesn’t think he has anything to say. They don’t understand each other’s languages yet, always stumbling through awkward touches and glances and sometimes even words, but they’re learning. 

Someday, if this whole thing doesn’t collapse into an awful mess, Yuuri wants to learn how to talk to Viktor and tell him --  _ show  _ him -- who Yuuri really is. 

Not today, but someday. 

**Author's Note:**

> :^)
> 
> [my tumblr](http://friendodo.tumblr.com)


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